Metamorphosis

Haven’t we all come a long long way from the place where you belong, a place that has all the memories, the memories that shaped you.

At the core you could still be the same but on the cover you are different, you feel different, you hear different. You have unlearnt the obvious and not so obvious.

You have seen the shadows, you have seen the light.

Does the mirror ever tell a story, have you unlocked the realm within.

Do you even know yourself anymore, do you remember what made you start or are you floating to see where you land? Do you remember when you were a mere seed?

A new world, new setbacks, new wins, new stories. Finding it all unbelievable, is it natural, this is what we call growth?

A soul who has its way to be lost, to be rebellious to both sides of the story a sincere rebel;

Drowned in revelry, drowned in isolation living a slow guilt to giving it all, sometimes literally not giving anything at all. Is it a never ending paradox?

Seeking refuge in the forest of entanglement, questions of belongingness while being lost in the trance, doubting the rhythm. doubting the process.

Flirting to take that leap of faith yet being skeptic of the journey, which truth are you running from? It’s in you to define the truth, to curate that abstractness and make it meaningful.

What is your end game?

You have been scarred by time and patience, it is a test that has a high cost to losing all the love, so asking yourself, are you making it all worth it?

Is it your pseudo belief, to take off after you lose it all? Everything you loved, or everything that loved you. Is there no way to make peace with it?

Is pain, the only fuel to make you fly? Look around, you are floating or merely getting by? Are you at peace?

Look around, are you an average harvest, is that a win in your world? Persevere and you shall ripe.

All these lights, has the bling filled you yet? Is there ever an end to this?
Are you lost again?

You are in a quicksand, there’s no stopping, it’s your prime, shining through this vortex. To live it all? To sustain it? To make transform into your best vision.

You see the bling, you pounce.

You saw this coming, didn’t you? Chasing the void you have been trying to fill. A void with uncharted depths.

Do you see anything happening? What is your fate?

The old skin needs to be shed, to embrace who you are becoming. To stabilise yourself, to swim the trenches of your metamorphosis.

To leave the your old form, to leave your old habit, there comes a calling. You have crawled past it, caterpillar. Is it now the time to stay still, sit, formulate, which everything around you evolves, and be the cocoon?

Is that call for magic a sign to leave it all behind, the leaves you used to crawl on, the earth played on, to evolve into a being with wings.

First flight would be the hardest, when was the last time you dared to jump? All you have is, self believe. To unlock, to unleash the unknown. The basis to not just fly but to evolve.

Outgrow it all, the memories, the curse of leaving, the ability to make it all fall into place, may be it has been a blessing all along.

The first flight, the freedom to see the world from a height, breathing in, uncovering your destiny.

And see beyond the past and the present and be your own hero. It is all a slow death anyway…the destiny to fly, to feel where it belonged.

What lies ahead, you need to dive in, listen to all the voices in your head, some tell you fly, others tell you to remain. Bargain with yourself, what do you really need. What has shaped you to be you, what’s inside of your head is like.

Delayed Gratification

Been a journey

Started well before, been joyous, lost in revelry.

Flying high, trying to look comfortable but was never easy.

There were numerous ups and downs, so many opportunities,

And so many defeats,

Yet we looked to thrive among the thorns.

Tried to look happy, tried to numb the pain,

Addicted to the numbness, we traversed through the ups and downs.

Like a never ending rollercoaster,

We have been lost in life’s amusements.

Hope is a dangerous thing, they say,

We hoped and we lost.

Cometh the judgement day, we lost it all,

Yet we looked happy not because we see a win,

But because we see a break from suffering.

Acted again to look happier,

Went to a high only to fall back right on the face,

We were lost again, this time it was a prolonged loss.

A loss that defined character, a loss in the eyes of public,

Finally they could see the flaws, they could see the downs.

Perhaps, they were happy or they felt pity for the first time.

Yet we maintained a stoic stance.

Deep inside, we could see it all out of control,

All these demons haunting us, we had to face them.

We lost it all, until we unfashionably went for the last resort,

It was hard to trust initially but then it all started making sense.

Until one day, we saw light at the end of the tunnel,

It had to be a quick turnaround to get to that wave,

We made it, all confused, dejected.

It was like that getting fresh lungs,

Still lost, we held on to the direction of light.

Obstacles were on the way, they seemed bigger than they were,

Until, we felt like we made it.

It was the big day, all we could see was light, not the brightest one,

But there was light,

Until we said maybe this might not be right amount of light,

Sure it was not but it was light,

The most we saw in a very long time.

We waited, we saw it fade,

Until it went pitch dark again,

We had it all to let it all go,

What was the journey for? What was its purpose?

Are we still aligned?

No straight thinking we see in the hangover of defeat,

But as they all say,

It’s part of a bigger plan.

To be lost, is to be found.

Faded

Ships have taken off, journey’s on the way

Do you even know what you play

Presumptuous but enduring

Is it the fear, do even know what you’re curing

Trying to be in the zone, darker it gets, the more it grows

When was the last time you felt like home?

Even at the highest it feels like the lows

Been trying to find the meaning and the purpose

When it has always been within

It’s as fluid as it gets, yet there’s no home

Every journey moulds a character, this one’s no different

Whatever it takes, you know the lights would always guide you home

One year defined who you are to the world

The other year would define who you are to yourself

Look back and see, the sacrifices and the unfinished stories you left behind

Clouds have covered the sky

All signs have been there to tell you, to slow down

The battle in your head is not gonna die this easy

Been faded for a while, there’s no escape now

Took you long enough, at least you know that you’ve been living a lie

In the state of meltdown

The situation is gonna make you queasy

Tomorrow’s the lie, what you have now is the truth

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel

Your conscious, your right mind would find you there

The story hasn’t ended yet, you’d come come out of this despair

Osmosis

• 

Time has come, everyone’s going home, everyone’s packing bags while you’re in the midst of nowhere, tried to be everywhere but ended up nowhere.

From agony to euphoria, you’ve lived it all.

To flock away from your very self or to find who you were, you can’t land anywhere when it’s all fire and ice.

Maybe it was all worth it? Maybe it’s all for the bigger race but are you even trying? It’s been long that you’ve been a sleeping devil, well wrapped in your own cocoon, or is it even yours?

It’s been long playing Mr. Who I am to Mr. Who am I.

Been dead for good? To embrace the dark, to embrace thyself. All this while, getting the whole wouldn’t get you some. Period.

Maybe it’s how you’ve been embroidered to fit in, while all this time it was you getting influenced to be who you weren’t while it worked for you, for a while before succumbing into darkness.

More like someone who’s been caged to forget everything about the n number possibilities of what he was and what he can be.

Out of all the times you’ve stopped yourself from being authentic, the next time would count the most.

Mirage

Well, it has been a ride.
A ride that felt like win, a ride that mesmerised you enough to get lost.
There’s no darkness, there’s too much light, it seems like you can see everything clearly when all you can find is closed doors.

A gypsy lost in the desert in the daylight, each direction he sets his eyes upon, he finds an oasis, a win. But the oases turn out to be mere delusions.

The game has really got into his mind and the psyche he’s been following has become relentless to his seldom self.

The gypsy has never been this unsure about himself, so unclear that he’s reaching mirage of oases. As if all he’s getting lured is into dank submission, each mirage is a way of putting him down.

So down, that he believes that it’s really crazier than he imagined, and for the first time he’s feeling left out, as if the game is bigger than him.
No signs of thinking clearly, thus, to think clearly he needs to lay and follow the pursuit of the breeze, nature never lies but can he still trust his insticts?

Precisely it’s the fight between not bowing down to the mirages ’til he finds the oasis or just move towards slowing it down ’til he finds peace.

 

Outlawed

The opportunist world saw a civilised world, destroyed it. Call it their own damnation.
The story of outlaws is about the survivors who sought to survive against all odds while the capitalists deemed them to be illegal.

We’re thieves in a world that wants us no more

Out there was everyone, everything; Even, the souls were on sale.
Ironically the land built on blood is the land full of dreams.

Hunted down were the poor souls, poor tribes who lost their land, their emotions, their culture to this sadistic world.
A massacre, a riot long gone to condemn those who inflicted it.

If we’ve to fight, we’ll fight
If we’ve to run, we’ll run
If we must die, we’ll die but..
We’ll stay free

They named those fighters as outlaws while they were the bigger outlaws; it’s true no land can be reformed without unbarred cruelty.
Those fighters had families, tribes tried to survive the capitalist world with a socialist and the sharing mindset; they worked, they reared, they raised yet hunted down for their own land.

They are chasing us hard
Because we represent,
everything that they fear.

All they ever wanted was freedom, peace, and harmony.
But they were chased, made to surrender.

Running to the wild, hiding in the lows, the fear of prosecution is their story.
Surrendering to the system was their win and the loss.

Only dead fish go with the flow.

Tonight’s the night, he learns to swim in fire.
Maybe, the fire tempted him all this time but then why does the world impose him to water?
It’s a cold day but he doesn’t feel cold. He’s mighty as ever yet grey

He’s waiting on a helicopter waiting to skydive, he knows he’ll land up alright wherever he’ll land but he can’t get hold of the handle and slowly he’s drifting out without a plan.

Gay is everywhere; so is dismay!
Moving towards pure uncertainty when all the voices in your head scream differently.

Maybe he never wanted it to be like this. Maybe he wished it was more simple.
Maybe it’s worth it.

One day, he’s like touching the sky and on another night he’s back digging for something he can’t find.
What’s missing, is it you?
You’re the one he had been waiting for, it’s been long since he relied on. He needs peace, he needs rest.

Promise, you won’t slow him down; his biggest fear. 
A little too afraid to exaggerate of what he has become, a neat monster.

Everything’s a lie, sand’s getting accumulated.
Maybe it’s the dual lives, he’s unable to control.
Acting dumb is easy, destructive yet addictive.
Acting smart is tough, constructive yet hateful.

He surely doesn’t know what he’s made of, but he surely knows what he wants.
He’s right there, yet he doesn’t know which door to open.
He fears the destructive nature of a wrong door but nothing is ever destructive when you’re the creator yourself.

Maybe he’s eyeing for another escape, which’s dumb but easy.
Safe isn’t right.

Everyone has weakness and if you know that, the person’s yours.
Well, he’s got his weakness and tied it to himself.
He’s following all instincts but which one’s right.

He’s still underwater, drowned.
Although he has covered a long distance coming back from the dark trench, paving his way towards the light. 
Moments later, he’ll be on ground zero moreover he’s set to rise this time.
He knows there’s no coming back here, he’s set to touch the sky this time.
The last fall took a toll, he’s feeling the water pressure getting lightened with time

But the question is, can he hold it till ground zero?

The Grey World

To the world out there, there’s where the melancholy flows.
It might not be felt but it’s out there as serene as the white snow.

Hold on to some light, they said; was it really the light or the annihilation of self?

Light was never the light which it seemed it, it’s not even the fire furnace but what it seems like is hell. May be the darker it was, the stronger it made you or the light’s just another level of evolution.

How bad was your encounter with the dark? You almost made it back into the whole, almost went deeper into the hole to find what? Maybe, it doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s gone. The devils have outplayed you in their game.

Are you willing to take the risk- the darker the stronger because you craved light out there and now when you’re here; light’s not your cup of tea? The influx of the acidic world’s out here. What did you really dreamt of? You said that you’re gonna win it.

Where are you now? It’s not a good world, you gotta earn your place in it.

The dark has got it’s own keepers now, no more of you is needed while you were so close to acclaim yourself being close to it, it’s all gone. Pitch black, no more yours or maybe it’s worth the try or fight because you belong to it besides the white light world where you’re merely left with the bat’s rituals.

YOU ARE LEFT WITH NOTHING, BUT GREY IS WHERE YOU BELONG!

It was so close, you saw them running for the dark; and you already lost the race?
Defeated but undefeated, is it worth it? You weren’t supposed to be like this.

Action is worry’s worst enemy! Is holding on to your beliefs worth fighting for? Not in the short term but the long term probably. How do you intend to fulfil the short term, while your home’s not home anymore and the new place doesn’t have enough room to fit you in no matter how bad you try.

How badly do you crave for it? Or is this what you had craved for?
Who got targetted by this lesson taught to you, for you and by you?
Who knows whether it’s the end or the beginning. You have already started losing and lagging behind.

I sing this prayer to the old one.
To the lord of the hunt.
To wild, dancing, mischievous masculine.
To he who is born in the winter, and dies with the leaves.
To the soulguide and the pathfinder.
Cernunos.
Lead my arrow true.
Fill me with virility.
That I might stand strong and proud.
Travel far and sleep well.
Ride hard and sing aloud.
And drink deep all of that is set before me.

I will see you around or maybe hold on to you but I will find my way back to the path where you’ve been knocking.
There might be shallow shallow waters around you; start swimming and swim until the end so that, even the deep ocean won’t scare you.

MAYBE, THE GREY IS YOURS. IT’S NEVER AS BAD AS YOU THINK, EVEN IF IT IS THEN YOU DIDN’T KNOW. NOW WHAT? TRY AGAIN.

The Wanderer

He’s nowhere, he’s running, he’s walking, he’s jogging, he’s crying, he’s celebrating, he’s shouting.
What is he doing? Where is he?
When was the last time you felt as pointless as him?

He’s out; it’s a jungle, it’s fairytale or a nightmare. Where is it heading?
Each joy ends up gloomy. Each misery ends up upbeat.

Who to judge, how to judge. Are they his friends or foes? He’s losing but winning and winning but losing. Will he drown or swim it off? Is this peace or is this war?

A conjecture, it’ll be back. But is it supposed to be?
Is he strong or vulnerable? Or maybe both.
Maybe, the door’s closed but the window’s open.
Is the dilemma worth waiting or it’s really the time? Which side will it go, head or tails?

It’s the misery, he can’t solve. Where will he go when there’s a mirage everywhere?
It didn’t come, it’s needed. Maybe the flower dropped its last petal or maybe someone else plucked the flower, maybe it was never supposed to bloom. Was it all not worth it? Maybe he can’t go on without the flower? Or maybe he will.

Shall he water other flowers, are those flowers willing to bloom for him, shall he nurture the noteworthy or shall he stop sowing the flowers as of whole?

Maybe, the flowers are venomous. Maybe, beautiful isn’t for him.
Maybe, it’s the dark he’s meant for.

It’s his fight against the ruins, he’ll walk it off. It’s the end but is it worthy to proclaim it? He will rebuild, he will be back.
With or without flowers, it’s time!

Is it fate? Is it a punishment? Is it a surprise? Is it a prize?
Maybe it’s meant to be.

It’s time.

The One

It was shady altogether,
When in light, he was gay;
When in dark, he was in vain.
No time to retract, it was him and the damned oblivion.

Wasn’t it altogether easy? Watering the plant to pluck the flower. The shrub was meant to grow into a tree but little it knew that it’s each new leaf was about to get slashed.

The robust feeling bowed him, there were times he saw water sprinkled as heaven’s own fall, and times where he felt the drouth.

From the multitudinous it was the flowers who felt the wrath, they weren’t supposed to grow with the dissonant while the cavalier had other flowers grown; little did the others knew about the one.

Other flowers had that alluring smell, little did the cavalier knew about the flower’s history of lure to kill. All he knew, was the luring smell of the other flowers while the one became abandoned.

One day it rained, the one got its supper & yielded it’s the first bud; it was beautiful and the cavalier saw it from the corner realising it’s importance. He gifted the others to his friends. This time, the one realising his importance became resistant to the cavalier. Cavalier blaming the reason for one’s sedate growth condign intent towards him. Enraged, he cut it from the stem and took away with the gifted flowers to leave him abandoned.

This time, it was no one. Pitch black he saw, he’s used to this. This time the cavalier had reinforcement but the one had cavalier. It was evident that the one had grown stronger and had risen above this detest but even with the emphasised growth there’s lack of light; he ought to start again and this time with no branches but from the core stem.

It’s his toughest battle where he’s discarded, he’s torn, he’s crushed and he’s alive. With no rain, no light he’s heading to the path of dank submission. He doesn’t know where to go, all the wells he mused about, had already gone empty with no exposure to the light.
He’s trying but no success all his will is dissolving into charcoal. He’s ruined enough to die.

Will he grow? Will he survive?
What if the cavalier comes back, should he accept his aid and offer to be with him again even after the myriad?